Treasure Island

vincent armone

(1/24/70 / Brooklyn)

Poets poets and more poets


Poets poets and more poets
oh how the words flow here
like rivers of shining words
they pass before the eyes of entranced

Poets poets and more poets
writing for the masses or the solist
matters not for ideas are the gift
the feelings are forever
the power unshakeable

Poets poets and more poets
from the solitude they emerge
to spread truths lies and in betweens
once done they hide
under the cover of the net

Poets poets and more poets
let the heavens falls
the oceans boil
the earth crumble
your words unbreakable
living forever
in an inperfect world

Poets poets and more poets
love to us more the a word

Poets poets and so many more poets
better because

Submitted: Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Poets poets and more poets by vincent armone )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Daaaaad! ! ! !, Damian Murphy
  2. Childhood, Sharan Strange
  3. Hunger, Sharan Strange
  4. Sensitivity, Khairul Ahsan
  5. Your shadow!, fareeha ghafoor
  6. Getting Closer, Brandon J. Moore
  7. The Passing Of Days, Lilly Emery
  8. In/and, William Stobb
  9. Release, William Stobb
  10. Some Purple, William Stobb

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]